Out of Town
by audreyii-fic
Summary: Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis are stuck on Asgard. Thor and Loki are back on their home turf. Asgardians have no idea what to make of their princes' new friends - and what is a Pop-Tart, anyway? (Drabble collection sequel to Ordinary Love. Now accepting prompts.)
1. Chapter 1

_I planned to wait until after NaNo to start this sequel. Maybe even until the new year. But sometimes you just need your freakin' crack!fluff._

_You'll probably want to read Ordinary Love before starting. But if you don't mind missing the exhibitionist smut and video games, the basics are this: a) Thor and Loki got banished to New Mexico for awhile and more or less worked out their issues, b) the Bifrost is gone with Jane and Darcy stuck on Asgard, c) Jane and Loki have all the sex but are still in kind of uncertain 'relationship' mode, and d) Darcy and Thor are besties due to pop culture bonding and mutual disinterest in angst._

_Last note: this series, like Ordinary Love before it, will be primarily prompt-based. Got an idea? Don't hesitate to share :D_

_So we're good? We're good._

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><p><strong>Redgryphon: Asgardian table manners! Throw that cup Jane! Throw it!<strong>  
><strong>Vaneria Potter: When in Asgard… Asgard customs are very different to Midgard customs<strong>

_Wherein Thor gives a toast and Jane smashes a mug. (Humor/Romance. PG-13.)_

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><p>The first thing Jane learns about Asgardians is that they can throw a party together <em>really<em> quickly.

She would have liked to have spent her first night on the _other side of the universe_ (seriously, is she really here? Decades of work and tears and stargazing and she's _done_ it) doing… well, really anything. Exploring. Taking notes. Getting to the highest building possible and charting every single new constellation she can find.

Stuffed in a crowded sweltering hall that's taken all its decorating cues from medieval Europe surrounded by a thousand shouting drunk people who keep goggling at her and Darcy while covered in dust and sweat and bloodstains? Wouldn't even have been in her top twenty choices.

Not that it's completely awful. Thor's clearly ecstatic to be home, and she's never seen Loki so relaxed. (She _knows_ he's relaxed because she can literally feel it, having been in his lap since the moment they sat down. Which she suspects has a lot to do with the staring.) And Darcy—

Darcy prods Jane in the side, grinning. "This beer," she says, mug in hand, face flushed. "Have you tried this beer? This is _great_ beer."

"I'm not a beer person."

"You'll change your mind for this stuff. Seriously, try it. It's _awesome_."

Loki's chuckle vibrates against Jane's back. "If you like the ale," he tells Darcy, "wait until the mead begins to flow."

"_Cool_."

Darcy's quickly pulled off into another conversation with Thor, who's introducing her to about fifty people a minute. Jane's not sure if Loki's supposed to be doing the same for her, but she's glad he's not. "You will enjoy the mead as well, Jane Foster," he says, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. On his lap they're the same height. "I will be… interested to learn your reaction to it."

"That sounds ominous."

Loki only grins.

It's been a mess of a day, but one thing's for sure: Jane is _so_ glad he's not dead.

Glad enough that she hasn't minded the way he's been stroking her thigh for the last ten minutes, even when making conversation with whoever comes over to talk to him (a whole lot fewer people, Jane has noted, than come to talk to Thor). But now his fingers have moved to the button of her jeans and it's time to intervene. "Knock it off," she hisses to him, grabbing his wrist before he can pull down her zipper. "It was bad enough being porn stars in Puente Antiguo. I am _not_ going to provide a bunch of free HBO to a whole new planet."

But Loki just chuckles again — before saying in her ear: "This isn't Midgard, Jane Foster. I could take you here on the banquet table and no one would bat an eye."

Jane swallows. "I kind of doubt that."

"Doubt all you wish. You'll learn our ways soon enough." Yeah, he's definitely gloating now. "But if the idea discomfits you — for now — there's no reason anyone need see or hear." And he takes his hand from between her legs (which she is _not_ disappointed about) and makes a quick gesture at her mug of beer.

The mug vanishes.

It _vanishes_.

Jane's mouth drops open. "Did you do that?"

"I did."

Fascinated, Jane reaches to where her beer had just been sitting. Her fingers brush the invisible ceramic side, and with a little shimmer of gold, the mug returns to sight. "Oh, my God," she breathes.

"Hold still." Another gesture, and the mug is gone again — along with Jane's hand, right up to the wrist.

She squeaks in shock and yanks back instinctively. Her hand turns visible the moment she does. There might be a conversation later over not disappearing body parts without a warning, but for now, Jane's too amazed to care. "It's got to be changing the light refraction. It's light refraction, right?"

"It's magic. And it has many practical applications." Loki hitches her a little closer, and she can feel him half-hard against her backside. "Shall I demonstrate a few of them?"

Jane definitely isn't about to agree — really — when the blond guy, the one with two women on _his_ lap, calls from his seat across the table: "I see you've finally found someone impressed by your little tricks, Loki!"

A few people nearby laugh.

Loki's embrace stiffens slightly. But his voice is light as he calls back: "Not all of us need compensate with a lengthy _blade_, Fandral!"

More laughter, including from Fandral himself. He raises his mug in salute. "Well-played. But if your lovely mortal loses interest in illusions and decides to seek solid swordplay, you _will_ remind her of Fandral the Dashing, will you not?"

It's like the time in her freshman year at Cal Tech when her first astrophysics professor told her she'd watched Star Trek one too many times. The whole class had laughed just like this. And it wasn't the last time, either. "We've had 'solid swordplay' on Earth for millennia," Jane snaps. "There's nothing to study in _that_." To Loki she says: "Show me again."

Loki obediently vanishes the mug once more. "Light refraction," she mutters, putting a decade of mockery out of her mind. "I need a mirror."

"Whatever you wish," murmurs Loki.

Fandral just shrugs off Jane's criticism and turns his attention to Darcy (who, Jane hasn't failed to notice, has been watching the exchange). "And you, pretty one? Are all Earth maidens as fair as you?"

Darcy smiles. "Nope."

"Come then, love." He pushes the pouting women off his lap and beckons. "Sit by my side and tell me your tales of Midgard."

"Nah," says Darcy. She takes another swig. "No offense, but you seem like kind of a dick."

Once again, the entire table bursts into laughter — and no one louder than Thor (though Loki's close). "Darcy Lewis is too much for the sorry likes of you, Fandral," he says. "She is wise beyond all things."

Sif, sitting on the other side of Thor, looks at her beer like she could freeze it with the force of her glare.

Loki snickers, but — Jane has to give it to him — not in a mean way. "Before the week is out," he whispers to Jane, "Darcy Lewis will have her own statue at the palace gates."

Jane doesn't get a chance to reply before Thor's climbing right on top of the table, mug in hand. "I have been remiss," he announces, voice booming through the hall. Everyone immediately falls silent; looks like there are benefits to being a prince. "A toast, my friends: a toast to the women who sheltered my brother and I in our exile. Who helped us, who taught us, who guided us through a strange land when we were lost and powerless. Without their knowledge and cleverness, we would not be here amongst you on this day." He raises his beer. "We drink to the health of Darcy Lewis, bestie of Thor Odinson, and Jane Foster, consort of Loki Odinson."

Now Jane gets a whole lot of new stares. Many of them aren't good.

And, hey, when did she actually _agree_ to this whole 'consort' thing? Is there a job description somewhere?

Volstagg looks as confused as she feels. "No, truly, what _is_ a bestie?"

Loki reaches around her to lift his own drink. "To Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster," he adds. "May they receive from our realm all the welcome and acclaim that is their rightful due." Unlike Thor, there's an edge of warning to his words.

Jane glances at Darcy, who shrugs and drains her beer along with everyone else.

Thor's done first. He winks at Jane, grins broadly, and throws his mug to the stone floor. It shatters on impact. "Another!" he shouts.

Suddenly the hall is filled with flying cups and the sound of smashing. _"Another!" "Another!" "Another!"_

"It must _suck_ to be part of this cleaning crew," Darcy comments to Jane. Not that that stops her from tossing her own.

This is so weird.

Jane hasn't been drinking herself, but Loki hands her his empty mug. "Throw it."

"Uh…"

"Go on. I learned your ways, and now you will learn mine."

"I'm not sure 'learning my ways' is what you did, Loki." Still, he's kind of got a point. When in Rome, right?

Jane throws the mug to the floor with all her strength.

It explodes.

Okay, that was _really_ satisfying.

And Loki's back to nuzzling the side of her neck. "I am going to take you to bed now," he informs her.

"Sounds good." If he keeps touching her like this she's in real danger of submitting to the whole public sex thing (again). A bed is a definite improvement. A _real_ bed, she assumes, not the foam mat of the trailer. There are a lot of possibilities in that.

But before they can even get to their feet, a guard bursts into the hall, throwing open the huge doors with a clatter. "The All-Father has awakened!" he shouts. "The Odinsleep has ended once more!"

An enormous cheer goes up from the crowd.

Thor and Loki glance at each other.

"Um," says Thor.

"Um," says Loki.

And Jane kind of suspects there's about to be a raincheck on the bed thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Asterisk Blue: "Odin, much has happened in your sleep." "Tell me, Frigga, what of my sons?" "They returned with Midgard with two humans and one of their creations, a thing called 'Pop-tarts.' It is a food." "I will try these 'Pop-tarts' later, Frigga. For now, let me speak with my sons."**

**siesiegirl: Odin is bound not to approve of Jane and Darcy. Loki and Thor need to go to bat for their girls. ;)**

**xSUPERGIRLx: Who remembers when Odin called Jane a goat? Let's have him comparing our lovely Jane and Darcy to farmyard animals and our boys having something to say about it :)**

**Vaneria Potter: Frigga wanted her sons to be happy. Odin had loftier expectations.**

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><p><em>Wherein the sons of Odin get a stern talking-to. (Family. PG.)<em>

_(Sorry, Asterisk: didn't manage the Pop-Tarts.)_

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><p>The day Odin allowed Frigga to teach Loki was the first day he sacrificed his realm for his family.<p>

_He must have something_, his wife had insisted, a challenge in her eye, her words (as they often were) a sharp but subtle weapon. _Thor casts a large shadow. Would you deny your second son a light of his own?_

The denial sat upon the tip of the All-Father's tongue. Loki was meant to learn the ways of the Aesir, to develop a connection to these people, to love Thor as a brother, and to take that connection and that love to the throne of Jotunheim. He would bring about a permanent peace between their worlds. He was born to be a king, and a king he would be. Loki, the prince of the Jotuns, the first son of Laufey. Not the second son of Odin.

Yes. There the denial sat.

But the lie would not be spoken.

For in his heart, as in the heart of his wife, Odin had two children. Two children whom he loved. Though now only _one_ could be king.

The ruler yielded to the parent. Loki learned Frigga's magic. And from that moment on the All-Father's plans for Jotunheim no longer mattered.

* * *

><p>Frigga won that battle, as she won many. But she did not win them all.<p>

_Banishment! Exiled to a world of mortals, stripped of their powers! How could you have done this?_

_Do you understand what they have set in motion? They have taken us to the brink of war!_

_They are your sons! They are **my **sons! _ _**Both **my sons!_

_And you see them through clouded eyes! Thor courts bloodshed without a thought to consequence. Loki whispers poison for his own spiteful gain. One reckless, one devious, both dangerous — where do you imagine this path will lead?_

_And rather than guide them from their errors you would lose them forever?_

_Is it only you who feels pain, woman? I, too, grieve the loss of our sons! But I will not risk the nine realms falling to ruin and death because of two vain, greedy, cruel boys!_

But the duties of a king did not sway the love of a mother. _Do not forget who I am, Odin All-Father._ The Queen's face flashed, her hands flashed, the walls trembled at the force of a sorceress's rage. _Do not think your power so much greater than my own._

Odin had been intending to sleep after Thor's coronation. He had put it off for too long already, and falling unplanned could have disastrous consequences. But the invasion of the vault… the battle with Jotunheim… the exile of his sons… the fury of his wife…

_I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard and mistress of mages. My children **will** be returned, or the ruin and death you fear will be visited tenfold upon these worlds._

The void beckoned.

_They must find a new path,_ he had whispered. _Their fates are in their own hands now._

Odin slept.

* * *

><p>His wife had been at his side when he woke. <em>Much has happened,<em> she told him, as though their conversation had never ended. _I am still angry. But I should not have forgotten that there is purpose to everything you do._

And he had smiled. _I will speak with them alone._

* * *

><p>It both gladdens and grieves Odin to see the anxiety in the way his sons kneel before the throne. Princes ought fear their King. Sons ought not fear their father.<p>

But he cannot be both at times like this. "Rise," he commands.

They do, and they wait in silence. Odin allows them a moment of uncertainty — which will surely do them no harm — before he nods. "Welcome home," he says.

As always, his elder son's reaction is more visible than his younger's; Thor grins broadly, while Loki only blows out a relieved breath. "Thank you, Father," says the latter. "It was a… trying period."

"Trying is the right word. You were tried. You were tested. So show me: did you pass?"

Thor holds out his hand; it only takes a moment for Mjolnir to fly to his grasp, as though forged for his grip.

Loki raises his palm and conjures a small, glistening globe of golden light.

Once their expressions would shine with superiority at such demonstrations of power. Now it merely _is_ a demonstration, nothing more. No arrogance shines from their souls.

They have learned.

They are worthy.

"I am proud of you both," Odin tells them.

Now even Loki cannot conceal his pleasure. And Thor — Thor, his reckless firstborn — says: "Father, we are sorry. For our behavior on Jotunheim, and for that which came before it." (Loki stiffens slightly at the mention of the ice world. Frigga spoke of their son's question; it must be answered — and soon — but not this day.) "We swear to you, you will never be disappointed again."

"A valiant promise." And now to less pleasant matters. "I have been told of the broken Rainbow Bridge."

They both wince. "It had to be done," says Loki.

"The full force of the Bifrost had been unleashed," adds Thor. "Midgard was on the brink of annihilation. There was no other choice if we were to save the lives of the people."

"I do not doubt your just intent, but Asgard sits a broken branch of Yggdrasil. The other eight realms are now beyond our protection or power. What will become of them?"

Thor and Loki look at each other.

"Ah," says Thor.

"Well," says Loki.

Odin hardly expected them to have an answer at the ready; it is something for them to think upon. "And there are yet further consequences. What of the human women you've brought to our halls?"

His sons' expressions turn respectively closed and stormy in turn. Yes, Frigga did warn this would be a sensitive subject. "What of them?" asks Thor, with the edge of belligerence that it would seem his exile did not entirely wipe clean.

"They are hardly suitable companions for the Princes of the Realm Eternal."

"You have not even met them yet."

"Will meeting them make them any less mortal?"

"Surely you did not expect for us to live on Earth all this time and develop no connection to the people." Loki's face is bland, shuttered. "Indeed, was that not your very intention, Father?"

"My _intention_ was that you learn humility, patience, and compassion. Not that you return home with pets."

For reasons the All-Father does not understand, the comment makes both Thor and Loki grin. The latter turns to the former and says: "Brother, you _must_ permit me to be present when you tell Darcy Lewis of this exchange in status."

"You may, but she will laugh it off as she does all else. _I_ wish to see Jane Foster's response." Loki blanches, and Thor chuckles. "You should begin searching for chocolate now, brother, or you truly _will_ never get laid again."

"Shut up."

'Get laid'? What is this speech his sons have acquired? "Do not believe me ignorant of the service these women have done for you, and thus for Asgard," intones Odin. "For this, they have the gratitude of a king. But do not imagine this gratitude translates to welcome, nor that they will be permitted to stay."

"The Bifrost is gone," Loki replies sharply. If Thor retains an edge of belligerence, Loki still wields his silver tongue as a blade. "Would you see us cast them into the abyss?"

"You think me so hard-hearted?"

"I think we were left on Earth in fear and solitude for months on end."

"_Solitude_. Is it solitude to have had your brother at your side? I am Odin All-Father, King and Protector of this realm. I could have banished you to opposite corners of the stars. Instead I gave you each other for solace." Odin stands before his throne and strikes Gungnir against the stones; the sound echoes through the hall. "_Look at me_ and say you are not grateful for that mercy."

Loki glances quickly at Thor, then lowers his eyes to the floor. "I am grateful, Father," he mutters. "Truly."

"As am I," says Thor.

"Good. Then know this: your mortals shall be shown hospitality, but no more. And they will be returned to Earth as soon as a path is open. Humans do not belong on Asgard any more than goats belong at banquet tables."

His younger son's body grows unnaturally still; the elder shifts his weight. "You test the limits of our new restraint—"

"—and we thank you for your kindly meant words," finishes Loki smoothly. "Be assured we will take your endless wisdom to heart." He places a restraining hand on Thor's shoulder, as though Odin cannot see the difference between a cold temper and a hot one. "Come along, brother."

Thor twists Mjolnir in his fist, but allows Loki to lead him away.

Odin bows his head.

His solitude lasts only a moment before his queen says: "You handled that poorly."

"I told you, wife, that I wished to speak to them _alone_."

"And when, husband, have I ever listened?" Frigga appears in a shimmer beside the throne. Her expression is reproving. "Please, do not alienate them. Not after all we have been through."

"I think of Asgard."

"I think of our children."

"And that," says Odin heavily, "is why _I_ am King."


	3. Chapter 3

**shorinai: Loki's never seemed to care whether or not they've had an audience for sex, so: People walk in (and out) of places where Loki & Jane are having sex, while they're having it. This does not bother Loki. It very much bothers Jane. **

**carollinali: Thor and Darcy miss popcorn and pop tarts and etc, and try to make the cooks at the castle do midgardians dishes.**

* * *

><p><em>Wherein the palace staff is very confused. (HumorCrack. R.)_

* * *

><p>Dregnr is a guard in the royal palace of Asgard. His father was a guard before him, and <em>his<em> father was a guard before _him_. To listen to them, one would think the palace had been attacked every season by wild frost giants and bloodthirsty elves, saved only by how the valiant homeguard fought to the last man, and as a child Dregnr would sit wide-eyed at their feet, absorbing each tale of bravery and daring, cunning and courage. _One day_, he would think, _one day I will be a guard as well, and I will tell my sons of **my** heroic deeds._

But Dregnr has long since learned that a guard's life does not yield nearly as many heroic tales as his forebears implied. Especially not in the middle of the night. "My prince?" he calls, knocking on Prince Loki's chamber door. "My prince, I bring you a message."

There is no reply… or rather, no reply directed at Dregnr.

"My prince?"

If only they were a bit quieter, Dregnr could return and say in good conscience that he knew not whether the prince had been within his rooms, and without that knowledge he had of course no right to enter. Unfortunately, Dregnr was cursed at his birth with both an honest nature and excellent hearing, and so he opens the door and steps inside. "My prince," he says a fourth time. Loudly.

Though a Midgardian mortal she may be, it would seem Prince Loki's new consort is possessed of quick reaction. She squeaks, says a number of words Dregnr doesn't recognize but suspects based on tone are better suited for a tavern brawl than a royal bed, squirms out from beneath her lover's body, and a moment later is hidden under the dark Alfheim silks.

Prince Loki sits up and glares at Dregnr. "_What_ is it?"

Dregnr can only bow. "My apologies for the interruption, my prince. Your brother has sent me with a message."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Yes, my prince."

"He needs to discover a new hobby." Prince Loki prods the silken lump at his side. "Come out, Jane Foster. It is only a guard."

"I'm naked!"

"He'll not mind."

"_I_ mind!"

"I'm not finished with you yet."

"Yes, you are!"

The look Prince Loki gives Dregnr contains more words than many spoken sentences. _Now see what you've done?_ "Give me your message," he sighs, "and be on your way."

"Prince Thor and the Bestie Darcy Lewis—"

"You people really have no idea what that means, do you."

"—request your assistance, and the assistance of your lady—"

A snort from under the blankets.

"—in the kitchens."

"Ah. I see." Prince Loki places his hand on a covered curve, stroking lightly. "Tell Thor I said to buzz off."

"…my prince?"

"Colloquialism." The fingers resting on the silks glow with a soft green light, but Prince Loki gives no outward reaction as the hidden lady squirms and emits a soft whimper. "We are entirely too occupied to attend whatever nonsense is currently underway in the pitiable chef's domain."

"Yes, my prince." Dregnr swallows. "But, ah… the Bestie Darcy Lewis said you would reply in such a way, and wished to convey — I quote, my prince — that 'boning needs calories, and sexaholics don't get Pop-Tarts'."

"I see. Well, I am not hungry at present." Prince Loki's lips curve into the sort of smile that has made more guards than Dregnr back away. The mischief it portends rarely bodes well for those in the prince's presence. "And you, Jane Foster? Are you hungry?"

The green light brightens in one, two, three pulses; the long, low feminine noise that follows is hardly muffled by the sheets.

"I'll take that as a 'no'. Are you ready to cease your inane hiding?"

"Only if we're alone," moans the lady, "and if you tell me how you do that."

"Does not a demonstration suffice?"

"No."

"Greedy creature," Prince Loki complains, though his manhood twitches in response to his lady's words.

Dregnr, being a professional, remains stoic in the face of this bizarre display — but he will have to relate the tale to some of his fellows at a later time. What sort of woman, let alone a consort, is ashamed to show herself in a royal bed? Or, for that matter, is foolish enough to respond to a prince in such a manner — and not just any prince, but Loki Odinson, who is well-known to tolerate impertinence from no one but his brother's favorites?

Perhaps witchcraft is still alive on Midgard after all.

Prince Loki is speaking again. "Thor and Darcy Lewis will manage just fine on their own," he says. He moves his fingertips against the blankets once more. The golden light spreads. The response is both loud and soaked in need. "Now get out."

Dregnr bows and makes for the door — but pauses when the prince adds: "Come back if they figure out coffee."

"Yes, my prince."

The noises that follow Dregnr down the hall can surely be heard in Jotunheim itself.

* * *

><p>When Dregnr returns to the kitchens and relates the message, Prince Thor rolls his eyes. "Those two," he says disparagingly, "need to discover a new hobby."<p>

"Eh, they had their space science stuff back home." The table is covered in half a dozen dishes, all holding pastries of varying size and design, each of which are missing two bites. Bestie Darcy Lewis pushes the one before her towards the prince. "Now that's gone. They'll probably find something new soon… if they don't die of starvation first."

"Loki is of Asgard. Jane Foster will perish long before he runs out of energy. We must look after them."

"I swear, they'd be lost without us."

"Indeed." Prince Thor tastes the pastry; his expression turns dissatisfied. "No, this is wrong as well. It's too… too—"

"—good, right?"

"Exactly. This one is fresh, and light, and flaky. It should be—"

"—kind of cardboard-y. Like it's been sitting on a shelf for two years."

"This is not a Pop-Tart."

"Nope."

The chef sends Dregnr a look of absolute despair.

Bestie Darcy Lewis takes another thoughtful bite. "I really think it's the preservatives," she says, speaking with her mouth full. "It doesn't have that 'these chemicals are probably going to give me cancer but I don't care' feel to it."

Prince Thor suddenly brightens. "What we need, Darcy Lewis, is the greatest expert on culinary delights in all the nine realms." And he turns to Dregnr. "My friend, wake Volstagg, and inform him his insight is needed at once."

These are _not_ the stories Dregnr's father told.


	4. Chapter 4

**subjunctive: They're going to meet Frigga too soon, right? What an awkward moment for Frigga to meet Jane, lol.**

**Riana1: I do want the awkward family dinner- I really want the awkward family dinner, specially where Frigga describes the horrible cuteness of Loki and Thor's childhood to Jane and Darcy, including Loki's horse crazy phase when he was like six and declared himself Sleipnir's mama and Thor dressed up in his mother's clothes.**

**helikesitheymikey: somebody finally trying to see why on earth Darcy and Thor haven't become friends with sexual benefits**

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><p><em>Wherein Darcy sells Thor out. (HumorFamily. PG.)_

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><p>Darcy did not see this one coming.<p>

Okay, she didn't see _most_ of this coming. Yeah, she'd wanted to visit Asgard and all that good stuff — best spring break ever! — but, to be honest, in the back of her mind she'd felt like afterwards they would return to the way things were. Go back to New Mexico and the lab, Thor sleeping on the roof, Loki and Jane knocking boots at all hours of the day, and she, Darcy, taking care of them like the lovable if slightly stupid puppies they all were. Maybe everyone else had been varying levels of restless/homesick, but _she'd_ been happy.

Here at the other end of the universe, with their way home shattered into a million colorful pieces, it gets more and more obvious every hour that those months in Puente Antiguo never had a chance of lasting.

But dwelling on stuff that can't be changed isn't in Darcy's nature. She's still got her friends, even though two-thirds of them are literal gods now. And Asgard _is_ cool. So, like always, she's rolling with the punches.

Even at the weirdest family dinners ever. "Darcy Lewis," says Frigga, an actual _queen_ of an actual _planet_, "Midgardian customs have evolved since the Aesir last regularly visited, so tell me: _is_ 'bestie' a modern term for 'consort'?"

Thor chokes.

Jane blushes.

Loki facepalms.

Yup. Didn't see it coming.

She takes a swig of beer before she answers. Thor was right — this stuff beats the hell out of Budweiser. "Nah," she says. "'Bestie' is recent slang for 'best friend', except less formal, but not as pervasive as 'BFF', which is often used in a surprisingly unironic sense. The term really evolved for people who were interested in developing a happy medium between the two: i.e., informality combined with a genuine irreverent approach to the relationship." These fruit-things on her plate are really good. "Whereas consorts, at least in the western cultural tradition, tend to indicate at least some degree of sexual reciprocity. Not so much with besties."

Blank stares.

"Sociolinguistics is part of the political science track," she explains.

"I… you…" Jane's disbelieving expression might be an insult if that stuff didn't roll off Darcy's back. "_Why_ did you apply for an _astronomy_ internship with me again?"

Darcy shrugs. "I'd never been to New Mexico."

Thor just laughs.

Loki, who looks as close to embarrassed as Darcy's ever seen him, mutters to his mother: "Do not waste your time. There's no reason whatsoever to Midgard's vernacular."

"No?" Frigga raises a perfect eyebrow and beams at Loki. "Darcy Lewis seems quite eloquent on the matter."

"My brother," says Thor, "never grew accustomed to having a companion more knowledgable than he." He grins and slaps Loki on the back. "Whereas I adjusted millennia ago. You did wish for us to be equals, did you not?"

A muscle in Loki's jaw twitches. Scratch that — _this_ is as close to embarrassed as Darcy's ever seen him. She'd gloat, but that kind of thing invites major karma; by now _her_ mom would have asked whether they're all using name-brand condoms.

(Jeez, her mom must be so worried.)

Jane clears her throat. "Uh, so—" (oh shit, _Jane's_ going to try and defuse an awkward social situation) "—is Odin — er, I mean, King Odin — is he busy? Or does he not, um… eat?"

Three stony stares.

"Nice one," Darcy mutters.

"What?" Jane whispers back. "I'm helping!"

At the head of the table, Frigga (who's obviously way better at the whole diplomacy thing than Jane is, but then, that's not saying much) manages a delicate smile. "My husband rarely takes time for family meals," she says. "Nor do my sons, for that matter, but I still have a bit of influence over _their_ schedules."

Thor glances across the table. "She said she'd hide my hammer."

Not Mew-mew! "That's cold," Darcy says.

"Indeed. It was coercion, plain and simple."

"The only objectionable part," says Frigga, taking a sip of something that's not beer but looks really good, "is that it _requires_ coercion to meet your new friends."

Jane shoots Loki a suspicious look. "What did she threaten _you_ with?"

Ooh. Good question.

Loki suddenly seems to find the ceiling very interesting. "No threats were necessary," he says calmly. "When my mother requests my presence, I obey."

Thor smirks at that, opens his mouth—

—and Loki twitches his hand—

—and Thor (The Mighty Thor, as Darcy's heard people calling him) is chirping like a cricket. "You were about to say, brother?"

Thor cheeps in fury.

Okay, Darcy's got to admit, that was pretty cool. But she doesn't think it's as cool as Jane does, apparently; _she_ looks like she's about to crawl over the table and stick a flashlight down Thor's throat. "That's _amazing_," she says. "How did you do that?"

Loki preens, starts to answer—

—and mews like a kitten.

Frigga smiles beatifically at Jane and Darcy. "_I_ taught him," she says. "Though I'm afraid he doesn't always use his gifts as I intended. But then, when Thor first learned to use a sword, he spent most of his days engaging in one-on-one combat with his stuffed bilgesnipe… so I suppose neither of my children have always used their skills for the most noble purposes."

Jane looks like she can't decide whether to change the subject or not. Darcy, however, has never had a problem with indecision. "I bet they did _lots_ of interesting stuff as kids," she says, grinning.

Thor glares at her. Loki makes a sound like a tabby being dipped in a flea bath. And Darcy can't blame them — this is definite best friend betrayal — but come _on_. How often do you get to hear embarrassing family stories about _gods_?

It's not like she'll lord it over them.

Probably.

"Oh, indeed," Frigga assures them. "In fact, it's been centuries since I told the story of how Thor once stole my bridal dress and Loki pretended to— if you try to escape before dessert," she says to her sons, who have both stood up so fast their chairs squealed on the stone floor, "I shall leave you both voiceless for a month."

Thor sits down reluctantly, but Loki still looks mutinous. Bad move. "Dude," Darcy tells him (because she still has to look out for their best interests, even when getting privileged childhood info), "you should probably stay. Imagine how bad it would be to meow at Jane when you're—"

_"Shut up,"_ Jane hisses. But she's wrinkling her nose, and when she catches Loki's eye there's some kind of silent science-y fuckbuddy communication that happens that they seem to think no one else can see but is obvious as anything. And then Loki slowly sinks back into his chair.

Good thing, too. There was an alley cat outside of Darcy's old apartment who kept going into heat, and the noise was ear-splitting. Given how far Loki and Jane's voices _already_ travel, this would probably be worse.

"Thank you," Frigga says, and Darcy's not exactly sure who's she's saying it _to_. Might not matter. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes: my bridal gown is kept in a locked vault beyond my second chambers, which was — and is — completely out of bounds to my sons. Nevertheless, one day they decided…"

The next hour? Is _awesome_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Xidaer: What will Jane do when she discovers all (most) of the books in the library are unreadable- she's has to have Loki read them to her instead.**

**carollinali: Loki has to steal Jane away from Aesir scientists/magicians/you know what I mean?**

* * *

><p><em>Wherein Loki is satisfied and Jane is not. (RomanceAngst. R.)_

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><p>"So these relics that 'pre-date the universe' — they're sort of the Asgardian myth of creation."<p>

"Except they are true."

Jane Foster's look of disapproval, disapproval mixed with condescension, is something Loki would not have tolerated from anyone else in the nine realms. From _her_, it is… acceptable. "Every culture has its stories," she tells him. "I'm only interested in facts. The 'darkness' here is obviously a reference to the Big Bang."

"Or your 'Big Bang' is a reference to the Dark Elves."

"They can't— that's not— if there was _nothing_, then _no one_ could have— _Ugh!_" Jane Foster flops back in her chair. The palace library echoes with her frustration. "Maybe you're reading it wrong."

All right, that is insulting. "Perhaps you would prefer to manage on your own?" Loki pushes the book in her direction. Illustrations swirl and dance along the pages. "Feel free, if you so doubt my translations."

She scowls at the runes — then, after a long moment, sighs. "I don't," she says, a tinge of apology in her voice. "Not really. It's not your fault what it says. Like when I showed you Genesis."

Loki remembers that. He'd laughed so long that even Jane, a hardcore atheist sharing her home with two gods, became offended.

"But I'd still like to read it myself," she continues. "Are you really _really_ sure you can't use your… _tricks_—" she chokes on the word, because she has not figured out what else to call them yet, and cannot bring herself to speak _magic_ "—to switch it to English?"

"No," Loki lies smoothly. "The tomes are locked from my talents."

With nothing more than a thought, he could change every book in the library to any language of any realm.

But then Jane Foster would not require his assistance.

"Shall I keep reading?" he says.

"Just a second." She taps her quill into the ink, frowning as she does. Her papers are illegible confusion. "Okay, go ahead."

Another hour of recitation. Dull, childish bedtime stories (and no, Loki does not believe a word of them, but it amuses him to let Jane Foster believe he does), but his consort dutifully makes notes all the same, drawing closer with each passing paragraph. By the time he completes the chapter she has all but climbed into his chair, unable to resist a direct examination of the pages.

He likes that.

"I don't understand how they move," she says. _I don't understand_ are Loki's favorite words right now, because they are always followed by— "Explain it to me."

Months of frustration fade away as Loki pulls her off the edge of the chair and into his lap. All that time as a mortal he'd known what he'd had to offer this curious Midgardian, and all that time he'd had to make do with with so little. Now he can entice her at his leisure, dropping bits of knowledge like breadcrumbs, watching her eyes shine with admiration and awe as she devours each one and begs for more. As though no one in the universe could offer her more.

And no one can. So, in this world she's never seen, a world full of new delights and (for her) endless discoveries, he must make sure she does not forget that.

"It's magic," Loki says, slowly pulling up the hem of her dress. He desires her most when she's like this, asking questions, eager for his answers. "I've told you a thousand times."

"That's not enough."

Precisely. "It will have to suffice."

Jane Foster turns around in his lap, straddling his hips. Yes, this is what he wants—

—but her expression makes him pause. It is… _disappointed_. "You're holding out on me," she says. "And it isn't fair."

"I've not been—"

"Yes, you have. I'm not stupid, Loki." (He bites back a protest. He does not think her that. Ignorant, yes, but never stupid.) "All that time in New Mexico, I put _everything_ I had into getting you back here. I used everything I knew. All to help you. And now you're—"

He puts his hands on her waist and jerks her closer. "You helped yourself," he snarls. "Don't pretend you had purely altruistic motives, Jane Foster. You wanted the Rainbow Bridge open for your own ends. It was only chance that our desires—" he pulls her down, grinds her against him, and she makes a soft noise "—happened to coincide."

She flushes. It is for more than one reason. "All right." Her tone is grudging, but her fingers find their way into his hair. Loki leans into her touch. "I wanted to see the universe. But you could still tell me what you know. Why don't you?"

Because when she marvels at his knowledge, he is more satisfied than he has ever been.

But Loki cannot tell her that.

She already holds too much power over him.

"It would take millennia for you to comprehend a tenth of what I know," he says, settling on a half-truth as his lips find her pulse. Each heartbeat brings her closer to her mortal demise. He did not feel that on Midgard as he does now. Another dilemma to resolve. And quickly.

Jane Foster is reaching for the ties of his pants. "Then you better get started," she murmurs. "Or I'll have to go figure it out on my own."

No. "There's no need for that." His breath hitches at her teasing strokes; she has learned too much about what he likes. He should have guarded himself better on Earth. He should not have let her see so much of him. He was cast out, and powerless, and frightened, but still, _he should have known better_. "We will go out into the city. The observatory. What's left of the bridge. If this is insufficient, I can give you more."

He can still keep _more_ from being _enough_. He is Loki of Asgard. Such manipulation is hardly beyond him.

Jane Foster's mouth meets his, and their argument ends. In a few minutes, there is a whole new sort of awe in her eyes.

Loki closes his own.

It would not do for her admiration to be reflected in his.


End file.
